#how to handle customer complaints | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr’s website traffic is steadily declining.

#how to handle customer complaints

crystlianajohn · 9 months

Text

Responding to Negative Online Feedback: A Guide for Indian Businesses

Delve into the art of responding to negative online feedback for Indian businesses, equipping you with strategies and insights that will help you not only manage but also thrive in the face of criticism.

#How to Handle Negative Feedback #Online Reputation Management #Dealing with Bad Online Reviews #Responding to Negative Comments #Building a Positive Online Image #Tips for Managing Online Feedback #Reputation Repair Services #Handling Customer Complaints #Online Review Strategies #Improving Online Brand Image #Customer Feedback Solutions

0 notes

cloudcentersolutions · 2 years

Text

The customer retention process is an essential part of any company’s marketing strategy. The goal is to keep customers happy and satisfied with the product or service, while also encouraging them to return in the future. There are several common mistakes that companies make when trying to retain customers, and understanding these issues can help you create a more successful customer retention program.

1.Retaining customers is a tough task

2.Not communicating with your customers regularly

3.Not providing value for money

4.Not treating customers fairly

5.Not responding quickly enough to customer inquiries or complaints

#How to Handle Customer Complaints?

0 notes

sigcorp · 3 months

Text

bg3 characters as retail managers in my boyfriend's* educated opinion

(*he refuses to post this so i'm doing it for him)

wyll - i think wyll would be a really chill manager, he'd let you goof off sometimes But after a while he'd still make you go do something productive. probably would have some random assignment like dusting the fucking lights or something if there's nothing to do but he's not too strict.

would get mad at a customer once and you'd be thankful you never have faced his fury (he'd never get that mean with you though)

basically the "haha yeah okay okay guys seriously go zone we can't all be standing here you're gonna get me in trouble" type of manager

lae'zel - insane workaholic. you'd dread working with her and she'd make your shift exhausting, but you also can't deny the place would go to shit without her because she's so on top of things.

you'd feel immense joy having her come up for a stupid item return that is against policy because she would absolutely never bend for it no matter how bitchy the customer got. not because she cares about you really but she'd be damned to go against policy for literally anything

karlach - literally so chill that you forget she's a manager until she has to call you to her office which freaks you out because you know you've been extremely lax around her and you forgot she actually has to do shit about that but it's actually just to give you your next raise. you love her and she loves you

shadowheart - when you first work with her you find her insanely intimidating and a little bitchy but after a few shifts you kind of get Why she's like that. wouldn't be a favorite manager but you'd probably sympathize with why she buys wine after her shift every night. if you're lucky enough to hang with her out of work you get special privileges (as in she doesn't scold you for standing still for 3 minutes like she does the others)

gale - nice, but unlike wyll who has a balance between pleasant chats and doing work, gale will literally stand there and accidentally force you to actually stop focusing on what you're working on to have a conversation with him. that can be a good thing, but then you're behind and another manager gets grumpy about it. chill guy but you never actually see him do much for his job. how did he even get to this position???

astarion - call HR.

halsin - dude knows how to run a place. he schedules everyone perfectly and there's always a feeling of harmony as you work together to get projects done. he's friendly but focused. he doesn't care if you don't finish your projects he assigns you so long as you were trying your best, but he would be a little disappointed if it happened too often

i feel like he'd definitely be the manager who actually gives the customer whatever they want even if you said you couldn't though 💀 he wouldn't be mad at you for saying no but he'd make you look like a jackass to the customer

minthara - i actually don't know her so idk but from what i gather i would say also call HR

withers - he's been with this company so long that he knows where literally everything is and every single specific policy and how to solve everything. he doesn't talk much and he doesn't really tell you what to do, he expects you to figure it out and leave him alone unless you need to ask where the most obscure item of all time is to help a customer. genuine lifesaver in those circumstances though

jaheira - the mom manager. checks on you when she notices you're clearly not feeling well. will cover any shift without complaints. you feel safe with her. she handles any difficult task because she doesn't feel like explaining to you how to do it, which is nice but as soon as you have no choice but to do it on your own you don't know how

#bg3 #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #karlach cliffgate #shadowheart #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #halsin silverbough #minthara baenre #bg3 withers #jaheira

154 notes · View notes

soupandsimple · 11 months

Text

Scones, The Bun & A Kiss (With Remus Lupin)

[ accidentally interrupting husband Remus’s class ]

* FLUFF 🥰

** warnings? pregnant reader

This was requested: see the ask here

………………….

Owning your own bakery usually left you with very little free time during the day. That wasn’t a complaint though; you loved that you could make a living doing one of your favorite things. Now that you were pregnant however, and per your husband Remus’s request, you had to leave a lot of the day to day work to your two trained, trustful employees.

That’s not to say you stopped showing up at the shop. You’d still pop in regularly to help with custom orders or just to see how things were running which almost always led to some leisure baking on your part. Today particularly, you made a couple of batches of chocolate chip scones and decided to take some to Remus to share with his coworkers.

Arriving at the castle that afternoon, you walked to his classroom and respectfully knocked at his door just as you always had in case he was with a student who needed extra help or in a meeting with someone.

Inside, at the sound of the knock, Remus stopped mid sentence, held up a finger to his students and walked to the door to answer it.

“Hi love!” you greeted excitedly at the sight of him.

Remus didn’t reply but instead simply raised his eyebrows in amusement and pushed the door further open so you could see what was in progress at the moment.

Peeking in, you saw he had a full class in session and instantly drew back and quieted your voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry Rem. I just thought I’d bring some goodies down for you and your coworkers…” you said, holding up the basket filled with chocolate chip scones and a silky ribbon tied on the handle. “I totally forgot you had a class right now though, mommy brain must be coming early for me.”

Remus chuckled and lifted his wrist to look at his watch. You took a glance at it too and saw it was a quarter till three- immediately your original plan changed.

“Actually, can I maybe give these to your class instead?” you asked.

“Well, we are pretty busy but…. I’ll allow it, Mrs. Lupin” he said charmingly.

You smiled pretty and walked through the doorway. All the students silenced and turned to you at the sound of your footsteps coming in.

“Class, this is my beautiful wife, Mrs. Y/N Lupin,” Remus announced as he closed the door.

Some of the young girls at different desks aww’d which made you remember all too well how you were just like them at that age; just absolutely in love with the idea of love.

“Annnndd….” you sing songed. “This is baby Lupin” you rubbed your protruding belly.

Remus smiled, admiring the way you didn’t shy away from being in front of his students despite only just meeting them.

“Now I didn’t mean to interrupt your class but I brought these pastries for Mr. Lupin and his coworkers,” you told the students, lifting the basket in your hand. “And, while learning about the dark arts is important I do also know it can be daunting at times. So how about this, here’s a little treat from me to you.”

You passed out the small, fresh baked goods, going from desk to desk and once you were sure everyone got one, returned to the back of the classroom where Remus still stood. Your basket was almost empty, save for three scones.

Both of you stood for a moment just watching the students delve into the treats with sounds and chatter of pure delight and happiness. You couldn’t help but beam in satisfaction at their enjoyment; you then reached into the basket and handed Remus a scone. “And yours, Mr. Lupin.”

He snickered at your professionalism. “Thank you,” he said, taking the scone and giving it a bite. “These are almost as sweet as you angel,” he complimented but not speaking again until he finished chewing.

“And how are you and our little bun doing today..” he asked, hand dropping to your belly to give it an affectionate rub.

You looked down at his hand as it moved at the center of your bump and smiled. “We’re good. Kept me company while I made these scones for you, won’t be long now before we have our baby out here in the real world watching me bake.”

“Hmm… no, not long at all” he hummed, leaning it to give you a chaste kiss.

A kiss while on the clock for work was something Remus Lupin had always deemed as inappropriate, but when you get him thinking about that baby of his on the way, you can bet his set of rules start to become fuzzy.

“Rem” you whispered coyly, eyes shifting towards the direction of the students.

Almost all of them were staring at the pair of you; some snickering but most just with pursed lips and attentive eyes.

Remus slowly took a step back from your immediate space. “That, students, is a kiss between man and wife” he smiled, with a little finger movement indicating they should turn to face the front. “Now let’s continue where we left off before Mrs. Lupin interrupted us” he instructed, with a wink back at you. That calm demeanor in which he handled situations had always been a weakness of yours.

You then watched as he walked back up to the front of the room and resumed his lesson. At a little table Remus kept at the back of the room for disruptive students, you set your basket down and took a seat. It wasn’t everyday you got to see your handsome man passionately teach his heart away, so you devotedly took in every second. Your baby was also happily taking it in too apparently, for it kicked at your belly every so often no doubt at the sound of Remus’s familiar, smooth voice.

Meanwhile, in his peripheral vision, Remus kept catching you with your hand at your bump, attentively listening to his lesson and in turn, couldn’t wait for class to be over so he could properly kiss you without the snicker and stares of his students. <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #professor remus lupin #remus lupin fic

570 notes · View notes

snapscube · 11 months

Note

Recently been replaying the Insomniac spider-man games and find the way they handle JJJ pretty atrocious. Do you have any gripes about those games?

oh yeahhh their JJJ interpretation was funny at first but got old SUPER quick for me. in Miles Morales specifically i was basically done with the Bit before the game was even over. when it comes to other adaptational gripes, im not a suuuuper huge fan of how much of a straight up cop spider-man feels like in the first game haha. adore that game to death, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about the flavor of police representation and spidey’s relationship to them in that game that i wasn’t super aware of in 2018 and has soured for me over time. like… spider-mans really enabling city-wide police surveillance towers??? going so far as to use them himself?? no hangups at all?? hey why does spider-man talk so gleefully about beating up drug dealers LMAO like i get he’s supposed to be a piece of shit sometimes to annoy bad guys but he says some scary stuff TO HIMSELF in this game at times that just doesn’t feel like peter to me.

of course a lot of these complaints about spidey you might notice are also things that directly tie into the gameplay mechanics so i think it was a case of insomniac wanting to gameify the character but missing the mark on justifying it narratively. the reassuring thing is that Miles Morales handles these points SO much better. in MM, you become a spider-man that directly interfaces with the community more often. people come to you with issues through a custom app. i’m hoping they stick with this route for spidey 2!

470 notes · View notes

kamiiri · 18 days

Text

Ripp was not going to test his father’s threats. He spent his shift doing absolutely everything that was asked of him, voicing no complaints, and only dozing off at his desk once…maybe twice. After the day was over, he decided he needed a drink, and he needed it badly. The thought of Buck becoming one of Buzz’s soldiers was driving him a bit insane. He was afraid it would turn his kindhearted little brother into Tank. He couldn’t handle another Tank.

“Hoot Howell! How is my third favorite bartender?” Ripp exclaimed, his hands outstretched. “Kidding. You know you’re my second favorite. Could I just get my usual?”

Hoot crossed his arms and said, “You’re not gonna pass out on my counter again, are ya?”

“What? Of course not,” Ripp replied with a laugh.

“Yeah. That’s what you said last time.” Hoot sighed, knowing he was not in any position to turn down a paying customer, and began to pour his drink anyway.

88 notes · View notes

mikachacha · 17 days

Note

hi, i’ve been overwhelmed with work today and wanted to request maybe reader coming home from work really tired and overstimulated and just wants to be babied and taken care of by bada?? please and thank you😘 i love you

Smile (Bada Lee x Café Owner! Reader)

Synopsis: You come home after a bad day and just want to cuddle up with your girlfriend

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of breakdown, some karen in the beginning

A/N: From angst to fluff real quick 😌😌

"You didn't tell me this coffee was hot! I burnt my tongue! I'm suing you and this establishment!" you looked at the Karen in front of you and you wanted to just slam her down the counter, tell her she's a dumbass but no, you didn't wanna make a scene or make things worse. You sighed and approached your employee and the screaming customer, having to fake a smile to try and de-escalate the situation.

"Hi, what seems to be the problem here?" you asked, trying to stay calm since you're the café owner. You're just starting so you can't afford some negative review from a Karen at the moment. You tried your best to handle the situation and managed to settle things down with a small compensation just to get that person out of your café. You feel so burnt out, you just wanted to go home and snuggle with Bada but you can't. It's not closing time yet.

You feel like losing your mind as hours ticked by. It's just not a good day for you, so many complaints from customers, some supplies weren't delivered so there was a shortage, it was just pure chaos so by the time you came home to yours and Bada's shared home, you just went straight to your room and broke down. You felt physically and mentally exhausted that day.

"Baby? Hey.. What's wrong?" Bada peeked inside the room and found you crying. It was so unlikely of you to cry so when she saw your current state, she became concerned. She came to your side and immediately wrapped her arms around you, placing soft kisses on top of your head and rubbing your back. She just let you cry out until you felt better, she never left just so you feel that you're not alone and she's just there for you.

"Bada.. I don't know if I did the right thing. I don't know if opening a café is the right thing to do, I don't know if I can handle doing this everyday.." You sobbed out and she wiped your tears away, placing kisses all over your face.

"You're doing great, baby.. You're doing so great. Today is just a bad day, yeah? How about this, you don't open tomorrow. I'll also take a day off so it's just you and me spending time together tomorrow." Bada's presence and voice is melting all your stress and worries away, she makes you feel relaxed and all you can do is snuggle up to her, basking in the warmth of her embrace.

"Really? Can I take you out on a date tomorrow? It's been a while since we went out.." you asked her, your eyes still brimming with tears and Bada cupped your cheeks with her palms, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

"Of course. We'll go on a nice little date, maybe a little picnic at the park and watch the sunset together? But for now, let me take care of you. My baby is so overwhelmed with work today, huh? Go, take a shower. I'll put the towel and your clothes in the dryer for a bit so they'll be warm when you're done. And then, I'll order some fried chicken and we'll eat and drink tonight." She says and you couldn't help but tackle her in a bear hug, thanking her over and over again. She really knows how to make you feel better after a bad day.

"You're the best.. You really know how to make me feel better." You told her and she just kissed you before ruffling your hair, making you whine out.

"Babe, we've been together since middle school. I know you like the back of my hand like how you know me. Now off your cute ass go. Let me baby and pamper you tonight." She smiles and ushers you in the bathroom so you can take a shower.

True to her words, Bada did provide you with a warm towel and clothes when you got out. She even dried and brushed your hair for you, pressing some kisses here and there. She really pampered you, doing skincare together and she did everything while you just sat there to relax.

"Thank you, baby.. This means a lot to me." you told her as you sat together to eat dinner. She turns to look at you, smiling. She looked at you with that smile of hers that made you fall in love with her in middle school. That same smile brings peace to you until now, years later.

"You know that I'd do everything just to make you feel okay again.. I love you so much, Y/N. It hurts me to see you cry and doubt yourself.." She pulls you in for a hug and you sighed out in pure contentment, you felt safe and loved whenever she's around.

"I love you, Bada. I'm lucky to have you." you say and kiss her. Though your relationship wasn't smooth sailing, you wouldn't want it any other way. It's perfect just the way it is.

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada x reader #lee bada #bada lee imagine #bada fanfic

82 notes · View notes

lovezbrownies · 22 days

Text

Work affair. (Yandere!Boss x GN!Reader)

Masterlist

Synopsis: Your boss never cared much for you, until he did.

Red Ludenhart x Reader.

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, alcohol, clubbing, drugging (to reader), death (minor character), forced memory loss,

Your boss was a tad bit strange, but you can put up with the strange behavior if it meant getting paid. Even if your boss didn’t allow you to step outside of his office and the VVIP area of the club that’s okay, maybe he doesn’t want you to be influenced by lazy workers! Or he doesn’t want any of the sleazy non-VVIP customers to harass you! It was all for your own safety. You think.

Red was delighted to learn your apartment was close by to his club. He would always offer to walk you back home when your shift is regrettably over, he has your address memorized, as well as the entire layout of your apartment. The second fact was not something you were aware of however, you should definitely get better locks. It was child’s play to break into your humble abode.

The first few nights he broke into your home he was far more cautious than he is now, Red didn’t know when your bedtime was, but when he decided to install cameras all around your apartment, he could finally have some peace knowing when you were and weren’t awake. And of course to spy on any guests you have over, watching you walk around and commit yourselves to your hobbies on the weekends.

You were the definition of perfection in his eyes. Red wasn’t one for love and that mushy stuff, he’d always preferred the more chaotic parts of his life than the mushy lovey dovey stuff he’s seen on TV. That's what he’s been saying to himself up until he met you, the new bartender. Red has no clue who hired you but he sure as hell is eternally grateful for it.

It wasn’t a love at first sight situation, nor did you meet immediately. You met the owner of the club you work at a month after you started working. It was during the monthly staff meeting when you did. Red was confused by your presence and asked who you were, after introducing yourself to him he brushed you off. Red didn’t care if there was a new employee, as long as you don’t cause trouble you’re not someone important to him at all.

Red thought you were attractive, sure, but most of his staff are– nothing new. Red doesn’t like the main entrance of his own club, usually taking the back entrance for special patrons, and into the VVIP area. So that means months passed, and the only times he’d ever see you are during the staff meetings. He’s sure you do at least the bare minimum since you don’t get a lot of complaints like other staff. Maybe the illogical assholes every now and then would accuse you of something but the floor manager usually has it handled.

It wasn’t until you had the closing shift while Red was still there that he realized how wonderful you are. Normally he’d be back home before the closing shift, today was different. It was a long complicated process but Red managed to convince an investor to put in double the money they originally invested; it was now 5:50 AM. Patrons have been kicked out, evident by the lack of noise, and Red’s sure the staff have left by now.

Red needed to drink something, and he needed it to be as heavy as possible. The VVIP areas didn’t have anything strong so he went to the general area of his club. Red expected the usual emptiness of the club, but someone was still there, vacuuming the confetti off the floors. In the middle of the large empty club stood you, headphones on as you nodded along to the music you were listening to.

This was something he hadn’t seen before; and he just stood there– watching as you cleaned up, unaware of the predator watching your every move. Eventually, tired of standing there Red just walked over to one of the bars around the club, took his favorite brandy bottle, poured himself a cup full, and kept watching. This time he was leaning against the bar counter. It was cute how you were none the wiser of his presence.

Eventually you turned off the vacuum. Turning around you expected nothing less than perfectly clear floors, which yes that you did see, but you also found the owner of the club, smirking at you, glass half empty. You stood there, motionlessly staring at Red as he stared right back at you. Not wanting to get into trouble for whatever reason you sped off into the restricted area for the staff and booked it to the janitor’s closet; just as Red was about to say something to quell your anxieties.

Well, not Red’s interest was certainly piqued. Picking up the vacuum you abandoned he made his way over to the staff only area, waiting to hear some shuffling but all he heard was the staff’s exit door opening and closing. You left. Not a trace of your existence to be seen. Looked like you were all ready and packed to leave, it’s fine, he’ll just put the vacuum back and see you the next day.

And see you he did. For weeks, he would approach you at the end of your shift, chat, and then walk you back home. A month and a half into your newfound friendship he promoted you to be the VVIP’s sole bartender, firing the old one for reasons unknown. Red watched your every move since, in his club, in your apartment, with your friends, shopping. Wherever you are. There will always be a camera following your every move.

Your boss was a nice man for getting to know you, walking you home as the sun rises, making sure no one bothered you, and when someone did he’d defend you like his life depended on it. Normally, you’d fall in love with a man if he did all that just for you. But you were already in a committed relationship.

Your husband, Richard, is a military man, striving to be the next Chief. He moved away from the city you two lived in right before you started working at the bar– Rich was transferred over to a different city, and you didn’t want to move away from your family and friends, so you compromised. Richard tries his best to come by and visit, he still pays for your shared apartment, and always calls you morning and night. He is the man for you.

Red knew about Richard, of course he would. Red knew everything there was to know about you, and was he concerned over it? No. Red has connections everywhere. Including in the military, so when an unfortunate accident occurs, a misfire, or maybe a terrible case of food poisoning. Whatever it may be, your ex-husband is now dead. Leaving room for Red to be the sincere loving friend. Yes, come running to his arms, cry to him, it’s late and you don’t want to be alone? No worries, he’ll stay the night!

Red’s been doing an amazing job distracting you from the death of your ex-husband. Hugging you when you need, cooking mouth watering dishes just for you, and buying you many things to help distract you from the grief. Like gaming consoles, knitting yarn, books, art equipment, anything! If he ever sees you show interest in something he will immediately purchase it or at least try to get a hold of it. Whenever you show concern or guilt over the amounts he’s spent on you he softly pets you and tells you that his club is very successful.

Over time, Red truly weaseled his way into your life. He spent most of his nights in your bed; although platonically, as you so claim. Red likes to act like a good househusband when he does sleep over, wake up early, cook breakfast, and shamelessly flirt with you. You two walk together to work, he doesn’t dare think of work up until your shift starts.

Red doesn’t like to harm you, but he has been slipping a few pills into your food; a few anti-anxiety meds, with sleeping aids and here comes the perfect concoction for lapses of memory, causing you to forget quite a bit but not too much to be dangerous. He does this for a while, until you mostly forget about the fact that you had been unfaithful to Red by marrying some rando. Once that happens Red pulls back from the drugging. It was easy to do so, with a spare key to your apartment and him cooking you most of your meals.

You stare up at the ceiling with a soft smile on your face, you ponder how you hadn’t managed to fall in love with your husband sooner. He’s always been there for you, he’s protected you from creeps, and he’s spoiled you even before you got together. You were so lucky that you had him. You looked back down, gazing at the handsome man laying his head on your lap. You caress his hair, your perfect man, Red.

Red loves his little butterfly.

#x reader #yandere x reader #oc x reader #yandere #yandere x darling #gn reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #gender neutral #Yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere male x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere themes

74 notes · View notes

obbystars · 1 year

Text

what I think the brothers would get if they went to a Dunkin Donuts (from a person who works at a Dunkin) + some other shenanigans if you worked there

Lucifer just gets a singular black coffee. Sometimes with an espresso shot if he really needs it.

Mammon strikes me as the type to get something fancy, like one of the signature lattes. Maybe a macchiato or a cappuccino.

Leviathan just gets one of the sodas we have available like pepsi, coke, or sprite.

Satan feels like he’d get a coffee with a side of milk (for the cats). The coffee is usually either black or with a splash of milk.

Asmodeus gets a Dunkin refresher and a donut with sprinkles. Majority of the time, it’s strawberry. If he’s not feeling the refresher, then hibiscus tea.

Beelzebub buys the entire menu (if he could). He’d definitely buy a few (all) of the sandwiches.

Belphegor usually goes with Beelzebub and just heads to the nearest open table to nap on. He almost never really orders as he just has whatever Beel gets him, but when he does, it’s a hot chocolate, apple juice, or orange juice.

and now for the shenanigans

Asmo comes by to visit the most. He gives a hello kiss and a goodbye kiss every time, and he will not leave until he gives a goodbye kiss.

“Sir, we’re closing in a few minutes, we need you to leave.”

“I want my goodbye kiss from them first >:(”

Asmo also sometimes tries to invite the others. Usually this is the only time where Lucifer will actually come by to order something.

Even if Lucifer did come by without Asmo’s invitation, it’s usually to just check on you, buy his coffee, and go back to work. my lucifer simp side of me says he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before he leaves, but that’s just me craving for the man

Mammon purposely takes long on ordering because he enjoys the fact your attention is on him. Of course, this causes the other customers in line to get annoyed. He’ll only cave when you tell him that he needs to order so you can get the other orders in.

“Can you believe them? They need to learn how to be patient.”

“To be fair, we’ve been here for a good few minutes… And I do kinda need you to order.”

“Alright, fine.”

Levi and Satan usually swing by when you’re just about to go on break. It’s like they know. Satan brings a spare book for you to read while Levi seems to have gotten a cafe simulator game and he wants to know if what happens in the game is similar to what you do.

Belphie definitely got a few complaints from other customers about the fact he just went to a table and napped. Beel would eventually have to defend him and say he’s with him. Sometimes the two end up staying until closing time. One of your coworkers likely asked Beel if Belphie was okay as he was probably asleep the entire time.

On the rare occasion that all of them do stop by because they all agreed they should, Lucifer would have to handle the big order and pay for it.

He’d eventually tell the others to go find a table for them to sit at if they all start talking over each other as they give you their order.

Before Mammon goes, he would ask if you’ll be on break soon so that you may sit with them. (then get ushered away by Lucifer)

The moment goes on Asmo’s Devilgram. He’s likely take a whole bunch of pictures, like his order, the receipt, the table with everyone’s orders, and a selfie. A bunch of selfies.

One of your coworkers most definitely asked if one of the brothers was your boyfriend. Your answer is up to you :3c

BONUS!

Diavolo found out about the brothers going to visit you at your job and gets curious, so one day, you see Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer (Dia begged for him to show him) walk through the door. He’s so excited and curious that he has no idea what he wants to get, but eventually settles with a muffin and the new Turtle signature latte specifically because of the fact it’s called “Turtle.”

Diavolo also makes Lucifer buy more than just his black coffee. By more, he just makes him buy the same muffin he got.

“That’s all you’re getting?!”

“This is what I always get when I come here.”

“Nonono, MC, get him the same muffin I’m getting.”

Barbatos is also getting a muffin.

Diavolo also pays.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me mc #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons

554 notes · View notes

eddies-house · 9 months

Text

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

Masterlist

Prev | Next

The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two. A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough. The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything. You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on. Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one. One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names. It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early. Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift. It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables. You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you. It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos. Turns out the customers went wild for it. It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite. And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies. The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later. You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger.

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow. He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully. A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush. Burgerless.

“Beef’s here. Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.” He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to. “And you, Bambi, change of plans. I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence. The kitchen? Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.” Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him. No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing. At least you hope. Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain. You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over. It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position. You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills. He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.” He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering. “Don’t know why, don’t know where. All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach. Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place. In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.” He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse. His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.

“That’s not what I meant–” You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat. Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it. This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night. One hour, even. You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions! Just follow my lead.” He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead? There was no lead. Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease. At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was. What else were you supposed to do?

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done. Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat. Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath. Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table. When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?” You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?” He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu? Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen? Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches. The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me. And I know them. I know how to butter them up.” He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer. “You…well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought. Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.” Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?” He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.” You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift. And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss. Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind. It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights. Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here. Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again. You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett. Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast. It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back. You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully. Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words. The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing. You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar. It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person. He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down. All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.

“They’re too close together.” Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance.

“Hmm?” You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.

“Cherries. They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot. The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest. Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.

“Oh.” You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been. So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations. It was refreshing.

“There you go!” He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created. Your third try at it.

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example. Leaving your sheep unattended.” Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth. You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth. Well, half-lying. You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep? Were you the sheep? Was this a jab at you? You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.” Jett defends. You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar. “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.” He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie. You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook. Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.” He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.” Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back. No complaints yet. Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?” Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis. He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance. There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you. The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.” You shrug. “Was I even any good at making a drink?” Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.” Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you. “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.” Jett chimes in. “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.” There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly? Real mature.” Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.

His smile was cute.

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him. He had dimples, deep, deep dimples. It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way. You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl. It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more. Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?” Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them. He was asking and not demanding. He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.” You whisper, unsure of yourself. A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar. He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret. You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double. At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.” Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness. You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink. He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!” Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before. You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell. Everyone’s gonna love ya.” Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities. And you were okay with that. Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself. It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special. He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there. Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands. He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times. Always in threes.

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want. Really, it’s all you want. To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again. After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served. But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it. And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water. This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.” His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent. But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call. Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again. With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month. Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried. He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash.

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound. A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf. Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off. His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping. Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward. You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box. Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight. Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead. You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass. Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down. It was obvious he had forgotten you were there. The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that. If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.” He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?” Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.” You chirp. Like a pathetic little bird.

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses. There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here. So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy. Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion. Some kind of bullshit small talk. And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type. In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards. Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled. So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.” He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal. And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out. He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.

“Every Wednesday. The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?” A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words. You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind. Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was. Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.” Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears. “That’s…nice. Really nice.” You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty. His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt. But still appealing. And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome. He was good looking, there was no denying that. His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly. You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing. There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself. A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

Masterlist

Prev | Next

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

239 notes · View notes

becsabillion4 · 14 hours

Text

false god (we still worship)

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary: Carmen has a bad shift, but you’re more than willing to turn his night around and show him exactly how good he is.

word count: 3,362

tags: SMUT, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, creampie, semi-public sex, window sex, lingerie, praise kink, vulnerable Carmy, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and yet again NOT an advert for safe sex. with that said, it’s fucking hot ;) and thank you to the wonderful person who submitted the prompt that inspired this, based around Carmy having a tough day and reader taking care of him (even though I’ve failed at tumblr and can’t find the original message). enjoy!!

thesydkid

Yo. Awful shift. Glad you weren’t here to see it.

whochefsouschef

fuckkk what happened?

thesydkid

Newbies think they know better than Tina because they went to CIA. You can imagine how Carmy took that.

whochefsouschef

was it kyle? he’s been like that since he started.

thesydkid

Yeah

Classic

whochefsouschef

syd?

I know that’s not all. kyle doesn’t warrant a text warning

thesydkid

Carm got food sent back.

whochefsouschef

shit.

thanks for the heads up

thesydkid

Good luck, cya tomorrow.

—------------------------------

It’s late, the kind of late where even the drunks winding through the streets have stopped their singing, the kind where it’s already too late to go to bed and get an ounce of good sleep. It’s the kind of late where you would have known it was a bad night even if Sydney hadn’t texted you first, because you know how hard Carmy cleans when he’s upset, and exactly how long that takes.

You sit up in bed abruptly, pushing your hair out of your face and considering your options. You have maybe ten minutes if Sydney texted you as soon as Carmy left, ten minutes to decide how you want to handle this kind of bad day. You feel a surge of frustration that you weren’t on shift tonight. As the Front of House Manager, you could have soothed the moronic, greedy, power-tripping customer who wanted to pull one over on the best chef in Chicago by sending back his perfect food-

Actually, maybe it was for the best you weren’t on shift tonight, or you might no longer have a job.

You smile when you think about how Richie will have handled it though. His courteous, collected energy even as he probably said something like, “Oh, you’d like to send this back? Wow, I’ve never heard a, uh - what do you call ‘em - oh, complaint before. Are you sure you know what this dish is?”

The smile fades when you think about Carmy’s reaction. You push yourself out of bed, decided by the image of his frustration, the anger he uses to hide his sadness. There’s been a few particularly bad shifts since you and Carmy moved in together - and Richie labelled himself as “matchmaker to the stars” for hiring you - and you know that if left to his own devices, Carmy will happily stay up all night stewing.

But you’re here now, and you’re determined not to let him. So you set your plan in motion.

By the time you hear his keys clink in the lock, you’re settled by the sofa, bare skin slightly chilled by the evening air coming in from the cracked window. You glance up as Carmy walks in, catch his eye, and he stops dead, hand still on the lock.

Bluer-than-blue eyes flicker across the scene you’re presenting for him - your best lingerie, your patient kneel, steady eyes - and he straightens from his tired stoop.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes still tracing how the lace drapes across your skin in the low light.

“Hi,” you smile. “Join me?”

Without looking away from you, Carmy shuts the door, drops his stuff in a careless pile. “Syd texted?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to surprise you.”

Carmy’s eyes drift away from you for a second, glancing around the room, like he does when he’s thinking something through. You can almost hear his brain clicking through the gears. Turning the kitchen off, turning something else on.

“It was bad, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuckin’ shitty.”

“It’s over.” You raise a hand to him, tilt your head towards the sofa. “Get over here and let me do filthy things to you to make up for it.”

He laughs at that, toes off his shoes and takes the few steps to the sofa. He doesn’t sink into the cushions like you expected though, but kneels in front of you. You reach out, run a hand over the side of his face, feel the days-old stubble rasping under your touch. Bringing your other hand up, you cup his face, thumbs tracing over the bags under his eyes like you can smooth them out with that simple touch. You can feel his exhaustion in the way he leans forward into the feeling, and it breaks something in you.

When you kiss him, you intend for it to be careful and slow. Bring him out of his shell, remind him that things outside The Bear exist. But the moment your mouths press together, the moment you nip the edge of his bottom lip, the drained and defeated Carmy is gone.

He surges forward, almost sending you tipping over backwards, arms wrapping around your waist. One hand slides to your lower back, stretching to cover as much of your skin as he can possibly grasp. Pulling you forward, Carmy bows his head to suck a bruise into your throat and you know for damn sure it’ll be visible tomorrow. A glaring mark, a “fuck you” to the rest of the world painted on your skin.

Your hands are far from idle either, and as one pulls at his T-shirt, rucking it up to explore the muscles beneath, you run a finger from the other over the arch of his ear. Carmy shudders in a broad, full-body motion and his hips stutter, jerk forward into you. You both moan at the contact and you want to chase it, feel him pressed between your thighs, but clearly Carmy has other ideas.

He reaches under your arms and pulls you up to stand with him, letting his hands continue their journey down your sides to reach your waist. All you have time to do is gasp as he hoists you off your feet, and he’s already walking towards your floor-length window as you desperately try to wrap your legs around his waist. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe, the hand not holding you up pushing deep into your hair and curling strands around his fingers so he can pull your head back, press more kisses to the hollow of your throat.

For a dizzying moment, you can see the lights of Chicago upside down, but you manage to pull your head up just before your back hits the cold glass. You hiss at the chill against your bared skin and Carmy runs a hot palm around to your back in apology even as his tongue continues its insistent sweeps against your own.

You barely register the soft clink of his belt, the push and rustle of fabric between you until his cock is pressed close, the only thing keeping it from filling you your own stupid lacy underwear.

With a frustrated groan, Carmy gently lowers you until your feet sink into the carpet, but he still gives you no room to move, pressing you into the misted-up glass as if he can’t tear his body from yours.

“Carmy,” you pant, unsure what you’re asking, but you know he understands when he grabs your upper arm, spins you around to face the view. The glass is warmer now, but still cold enough that the press of your barely-concealed nipples to its surface makes you moan as you hear Carmy kneel, feel him sliding your panties down your legs.

He doesn’t even let them reach your ankles before he’s up again, kissing his way along your spine as he goes, and finally, finally, the head of his cock nestles in where it needs to be.

Its hot and heavy presence has you pushing your hips back, wanting to feel the glorious slide of him, lose yourself in the moment he splits you, and all you can see, eyes half-slitted in pleasure, are the glittering lights of the city below. You live pretty high up and the lights are low enough that none of the busy pedestrians below should see, but all it would really take is a glance up and an observant eye. To see your breasts pressed against the glass, Carmy’s possessive hands gripping your hips as he finally drives into you. Even from this distance, you imagine the pleasure on your own face and your walls flutter around Carmy until he growls, pulls your hands from where they were flat against the window into a bind behind you.

There is nothing kind and gentle about this moment, no give in Carmy’s body as he fucks into you, and you revel in it. Let him take his pain and translate it into pleasure through your body. Let him take and take and take until he has nothing left to give, and let the world see him doing it. Let them see what’s his.

These thoughts alone have you teetering, desperate for a few more strokes, but the surprise of Carmy reaching around to draw lazy circles over your clit as he snarls, “Fucking look at you, look how good you take me,” has you seizing up instantly. You can faintly hear your own surprised cry through the buzzing in your ears, and Carmy’s gasps as he feels you pulsate around him, but you only fully come back to yourself when you press your forehead against the blessedly cool glass.

The strength of your orgasm is enough that your legs are visibly shaking now, and without a word, Carmy bends to scoop up your lower half and pulls you in, cradling you across his front. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm your breathing as you push your face into his chest, but before you can even begin to get your head straight, you feel soft sheets on your back as he lowers you to the bed.

He sinks down beside you, and all his desperation from a moment ago is gone as his body finally relaxes. He’s still hard and straining towards you, but the light has dimmed in his eyes, so when you reach for him, it’s to run a hand across his cheek, to bring his eyes to yours. When you move towards him, it’s to curl your legs with his, to press your forehead against his and settle his breathing with your own.

People think Carmy is so used to taking shit that it doesn’t hurt him anymore, but you know. You know how each word drives so deep that he doesn’t know how to take good anymore, how he invites the anger and the aggression of a kitchen into his soul because the alternative is realising that all the shit he’s been through is too awful, too devastating to reconcile. To keep feeling it, so he has no time to wonder what his life would be without it.

You see the weakness and the fear and the vulnerability, and you know how he absorbs the feeling and translates it into his work, how he uses it to fuel him, how he turns the criticism and the insults and the hatred into being better, being perfect, doing a good job.

“You are so wonderful, Carmy,” you murmur, and when he tries to look away, you hold his head still. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. Shit, not really anything.” You’re silent, and he sighs as he caves under the pressure of your gaze. “Back when I was in New York, you remember that chef I told you about?”

You nod, because you know you can’t say anything remotely okay about that particular chef.

“He had this thing, about pasta. Thought he was some kind of expert because he spent, like, three months with Massimo Bottura. We had to boil water from cold every time, for every single batch of pasta we served, and there was this exact amount of salt we had to add. It wasn’t like a teaspoon, it was seven point three grams for every hundred of pasta. And he could fucking tell if you were off, he barely had to taste it. One time I saw him smell somebody’s pasta and tell them they were off by point two.” Carmy’s voice is shaking, and you move your thumb along his cheekbone slowly, calmly, giving him something to root himself to. Remind him he’s not there.

“And I was thinking about it while I was cooking the bucatini, and it’s like he was in the room again, saying the same shit he always did. Watching over my shoulder as I added the salt, and it made me so mad,” Carmy mutters, breaths coming in pants now. “And I didn’t even think, I just added like way too much salt. Enough to fuckin’ ruin it, ‘cos I just wanted to see him choke on it. And then I sent it out.”

You don’t take your eyes from his face as you curl one hand down to straighten the fingers of his, to stop the nails he’s digging deep into his palm from cutting into his skin.

“And of course it got sent back, and Richie apologised and comped their bill, and they didn’t care. But, like, I just sabotaged my own restaurant. My own reputation, becuase I can’t stop fuckin’ thinking about salting pasta,” Carmy finishes in a rush, and he finally meets your eyes.

“Carmy, you’re working in a kitchen every day. It’s no surprise you remember other kitchens you’ve been in, and the kind of behaviour you’ve had to endure. But it’s not that kitchen anymore. This is your kitchen we’re talking about, your space. When you look over your shoulder, he’s not there anymore. Syd is, and she’s got your back. We’re not some pristine, sterile team with no heart. Richie’s there.” You feel a surge of emotion so strong for the brilliant, vulnerable man in front of you that you push your face into his shoulder, hard enough that he has to steady himself from falling back onto the bed. His other hand comes up to card loosely through your hair, and you suppress a soft noise of comfort to finish with, “I’m there.”

“I know, baby,” he responds, pulling you closer until you’re practically curled into his lap. “And I think it’ll get easier, it’s already easier. I just don’t think I’ll ever entirely stop sabotaging myself. I’m not like the food I make, I’m not composed and-and, perfect. I’m not, uh, not always good at stuff.”

“Okay, but you’re good plenty of the time,” you whisper, looking up at him. You smile as he glances down, catches your eye. “I could go on for days about the stuff you’re good at.”

“Oh yeah?” Carmy murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, down and round the edge of your face to the shell of your ear. You shiver instinctively, press into the feeling.

“You’re good at that. Good at getting me out of control,” and your voice is already shaking.

“You’re not out of control, babe. I’ve got you. You’re mine,” Carmy is muttering inbetween kisses as he rolls you onto your back, pins your arms to your sides with his legs and begins to fully slide off your lingerie, slowly, carefully. His hands are, as always, steady. You remember all the times you’ve watched him roll a cigarette, piece together edible art as flames lick at his chef’s whites, and you can’t remember a time you’ve seen them shake.

From the eye of the storm he’s creating in you, you watch as he slides down the bed, skimming his lips across your trembling thighs until he sits back, and moves his hands to your knees.

You can almost feel the pleasure it gives him as, at the lightest touch from him, you part your legs, let him see what he does to you. What he has done. When he growls, you realise he can see remnants of your earlier escapade against the window at your entrance, his come marking you.

When Carmy dips his finger inside you, your hips jerk towards him, but he holds them down with one hand. His finger delves deep for a moment, and then leaves you suddenly, but before you can protest, he brings his hand to your face, offers you the digit. You’re entranced by the silent command in his eyes, and with no hesitation, you open your mouth and let Carmy’s come-covered finger slide inside, press deep towards the back of your throat. When you swallow, the bitterness makes you moan, envision being on your knees for Carmy, his fingers twined so deep into your hair it hurts, feeling his white-hot heat at the back of your throat.

It breaks whatever tension was stretched taut between you, and Carmy wraps his arms around your legs, pulls your body towards him and lowers his face between your thighs. For a moment, he teases you, nibbling at the juncture where your leg curves into your hip, skimming his teeth across the bone, but you know he’s secretly just as impatient as you are, and when he takes his first tender lick across your clit, he moans even louder than you do.

Giving head is an art for Carmy, and feels like a privilege to you. You’ve seen him enjoy food in the kitchen, give somebody that blown-away glance that they’ve worked their whole lives to see, but he never takes more than one bite.

But this, with you, as you watch him devour you whole...It’s the only meal you’ve ever watched him finish.

Tongue swirling delicately across your center, breaking for hungry kisses to your thighs as his hands grasp at any inch of you he can reach, you can’t help the words that spill from you, “yes, yes, Carmy, you’re so good, you make me feel so good, my good boy, please-“, but you can’t continue as he slides two fingers deep inside your aching pussy, so deep you don’t ever want him to move.

At this point in the erotic novels you read during your lunch break (which, if Fak were to find them, would spell the end of your career), the heroine says something about how it feels like hours pass with her lover between her legs. But this is real life, and all Carmy has to do is mutter, “Finish for me baby, finish for me,” for you to come embarrassingly quickly.

You’re practically incoherent on the comedown, and all you can summon the strength to do is pull him into you, press kisses to his forehead and mumble over and over how fucking amazing he makes you feel.

“If you lose everything else, Carmy, if you ever think there isn’t a thing in this world you’re any good at, just know that you are a god at giving head,” you pant eventually, and when he pushes his face into your neck, you can feel his smile there.

For a moment more, you just enjoy the press of his body against yours, revel in the sweat and slick between you. It dawns on you slowly just how slick it feels, and you gasp as you realise-

“Carmy, did you-?”

Carmy laughs into your skin, tracing one hand across your chest idly until you shiver. “Yeah. You, uh, you were moaning and telling me how good I was and…it was hot.”

You laugh with him breathlessly, still kind of in awe at how well you fit after all this time, how at home you feel with him. “Well, I hope that made your bad day a little better.”

Carmy is silent for a second before he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do for me,” and you can see the shine of his eyes in the glitter of the city lights filtering through your window. “There can never be a bad day if I end it right here, in this bed, in your arms.”

You would reply, but he’s kissing you into silence before you can, and you wonder for a moment if any words will ever need to be said between you and Carmy again, or whether you can communicate all the fear, all the anger, all the love, just with kisses and touch and his lips against yours. But eventually, as you slip into sleep with his body twined around yours, you decide that tongues were made for more than just talking.

#becsabillion #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #Carmen berzatto x ofc #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmy the bear #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #the bear fandom

69 notes · View notes

eternallyhyucks · 7 months

Text

hazelnut latte | kim gyuvin (fluff, wc: 640)

gyuvin x barista! reader

𖤐 ྀ

after almost a full year of working at your local cafè, you had become really close with your coworkers and they were some of your best friends, which made talking about your love lives come easy.

“i can’t believe i’ve been working here for 8 months and haven’t encountered even one cute customer” you sighed, wiping down the counter after a small rush.

“hey what about that guy from last week” your coworker, ricky, giggled.

“enough on that” you laughed and rolled your eyes thinking about the random man that was trying to flirt with you in front of his children.

as your shift slowly moved along, the two of you were becoming more tired and ready to clock out.

“i’m gonna run to the bathroom, you can handle being alone for a bit right?” you asked while untying your apron.

“yeah i’ll be fine but what if your soulmate walks in when you leave” ricky said giggling

“well-“ but you trailed off as you saw the prettiest boy you had ever laid your eyes on walk into the store.

quickly putting your apron back on, you slightly pushed ricky to the side. he was confused by your action before looking at the line behind the register and saw the same pretty boy at the end of it.

“the world was listening to your complaints huh”

after a couple minutes, it was finally the boy’s turn to order.

“hi! i’ve never been here before, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he said smiling brightly at you.

“i love the hazelnut latte! sometimes i mix it with a little bit of caramel and that always tastes really good as well” you say smiling back

“ooh, i’ll try that then!”

you reply back with a quick ‘okay’ and ring his order up. you hesitate before also adding your discount on his order.

the boy took out his card to pay, but noticed the discount and looked up at you, confused.

“since it’s your first time!” you say smiling.

he smiled back, a slight blush forming on his cheeks.

after he finished paying, you hand him his reciept and say, “your order number is 25, and you can pick up the drink on the left!”

he walks over to the side while you walk over to join ricky in preparing orders.

“so how was flirting with your new obsession”

“flirting?? obsession??”

“well knowing you, you’ll be thinking about him for the next couple months. bro’s gonna become ‘hazelnut latte with caramel boy’” ricky teased you, “and yes, flirting, you just gave that random kid a discount all because you think he’s cute, sorry, because ‘it’s his first time’ my ASS,” he snickered.

before you could reply, hazelnut latte with caramel boy walked up closer to the pick up counter, making eye contact with you. fixing your apron, you went up to him.

“hey i was wondering if you guys are by chance hiring? i’m new to town and have been looking for a job”

you slightly cheer on the inside, feeling ricky smirking next to you, and say, “yeah we are actually! you can just fill out the form through the qr code on the wall over there and you should get a call or text soon after”

ricky passes you the boy’s drink,

“and here’s your drink um …?”

“gyuvin!”

“.. gyuvin. i’m y/n! i hope next time i see you is your first shift!”

“me too, see you y/n!” he says picking up his drink and taking a sip. his eyes widen, “this is so good by the way, thank you!”

“see you and of course!”

you smile and turn to see ricky with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

“what?”

“hazelnut latte boy just became ‘coworker i’m in love with’”

“and after that, my boyfriend gyuvin”

— tysm for 500!! <3

TAGLIST!

@izchone , @baekswoons , @jiwon-44 , @junityy , @pr0dbeomgyu , @yyx2 , @wccycc , @koishua , @changminurheart , @rainbowglitteramythyst , @baekhyunstruly , @soobin-chois , @yjwfav , @fairybinie

—send an ask if you would like to be a part of my taglist!!

133 notes · View notes

orange-demons · 2 months

Text

Luke s. x bimbo!fem!reader

not a luke girlie, but I think out of everyone in street fighter 6. he's the only one to fully appreciate a bimbo gf.

When Luke first sees you, you were being harassed by a couple of thugs near his gym.

And of course, being an outstanding samaritan and having a chance to impress himself in front of a hot girl, he did what anyone would do and kicked their asses.

After he scared them off he went to check if you were fine. To which you wrapped your arms around him to thank him.

That’s how you met.

He likes to show off in front of you, whether in the arena or on the streets.

He also spoils you rotten, that Louis Vuitton purse you were eyeing, purchased. The Dior lip oil that was out of stock, yours. That cute mini skirt you pointed through the window, now lies in your wardrobe.

Luke loves it when you cling on his arm, it really strokes his ego.

When you told him you had a dog named Cupcake he fully expected a tiny spoiled chihuahua. The type that's way too pampered to move. Not a 100lb Rottweiler who serves as your attack dog. She scared the hell out of him when he first came over.

She's fiercely protective of you and only you, so she doesn’t take a liking to Luke no matter how much he tries.

You like to see if your new lipstick is smudge-proof by kissing him. You would sit on his lap and pepper his face with kisses, not like he’s complaining.

You insisted on wearing matching lockets, so Luke keeps his on the chain holding his dog tags.

You made it a point to have your picture on one side and his on the other. So when you closed it, you both would be kissing.

Well...at least that's what you said.

Every time he enters a tournament before he goes into the ring, he kisses his locket good luck.

He’s the type of guy to say wear what you want, I can fight.

But if he notices someone who can’t take their eyes off of your low-cut top, he’ll pull you closer by your waist.

You randomly asked him one day how it feels to be put in a headlock, because you saw him do it to one of his students when you went to visit him at the gym. So he decided to give you a demonstration.

His forearms weren't tight enough to restrict your airflow, but you could definitely feel your cheeks squish and your lips puckering. Maybe dying like this wasn't too bad.

Luke laughs at you for liking this too much.

You like to show him the cute charms on your nails every time you get them done.

One time when you both were making out, you noticed one of your gel nails was broken, and that was the only thing you could focus on for the next hour, despite him whining for you to keep kissing him.

He knows you don’t like it when he tries to hug you when he’s all sweaty because you don’t want his sweat to get on your outfit.

but he still does it anyway even after you push him away.

He's never cared much about the latest fashion trends or the makeup drops from famous influencers, but he’ll allow himself to be dragged to the mall if you beg him enough.

He’ll hold all your bags with no complaints.

He definitely gives you princess treatment. Like massaging your legs when your feet hurt from wearing heels all day, or even paying for all your shopping expenses when you refuse.

When you come home from a successful haul you're always eager to show him. And he will tell you which ones he likes the best.

He says to give him a little twirl.

You complain to him about how much you don’t want pizza because he eats it all the time.

Every time Luke is able to customize a character in game, he makes them look like you.

He does his best to have them adopt your style and mannerisms.

Luke knows he doesn’t need to protect you 24/7 because you’re capable of handling yourself, but he still wants to teach you a couple of moves in case something does happen.

He taunts you a bit so you can pack more to your punch.

And let me say, you have a mean, right hook. Knocked Luke in his jaw.

He actually thought it was pretty hot, especially when you were fussing over him.

When you guys travel, he gets to relax in your pink car. The seats are lined with fur and filled to the brim with stuffed animals. Fuzzy dice hanging from your rearview mirror and snacks in the hidden compartments of the car.

He makes you drive because he can’t see through the gaps in the plushies like you do and gets too distracted by them.

You text constantly since you both have different routines. But you mostly send pics of yourself when you're in dressing rooms.

You: [sent pic] Does this skirt make my butt look big?

Luke: I think you should go shorter.

So you do.

Playing co-op with this guy is easy for you. Mostly because he’s good enough to carry both of you through an entire game.

It’s different if you're competitive, because he is too. So he won’t let you win so easily.

But if you decide to opt-out, he’ll sit on the floor while you passively braid his hair. You even stick a couple of hair clips in his hair with small charms on them.

As much as you love Luke, you hate sleeping over his house. He doesn’t have anything to eat in his fridge other than protein shakes and red meat.

And showering was a different story. Body scrubs, lotions, scented shampoos, and conditioners are nowhere to be seen. You have to tuff it out with the 3 in 1 men’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

But you do like snuggling with him in bed because he gives the best hugs, so you guess you can deal with it.

love potions (feat. princess paparazzi)

#street fighter 6 x reader #street fighter x reader #street fighter #luke sullivan x reader #luke x reader #luke sullivan #street fighter luke #street fighter luke sullivan #street fighter luke x reader #street fighter luke sullivan x reader #sf #sf6 #sf x reader #sf6 x reader #x bimbo!reader #bimbo reader

94 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs